CHAPTER SIX
Sherry primped for a few minutes longer, then went upstairs to pass the time before her act began. She did not see her father anywhere and so she ambled toward the lounge stage to watch the act which preceded here. There stood Tony Agnello, his arms outstretched, singing The Night Was Made For Love. He wore a bright orange peasant-type shirt, with the arms full and open down the front to expose his hairy, masculine chest. His tight-fitting, bell-bottom trousers a gray shiny material. He held the audience absolutely enthralled, particularly the women. Sherry wondered why she had never heard of him before. His voice was just as magnificent as it had been that afternoon in the woods. She felt a tingle of desire run through her entire body as she recalled the sexual scene she had witnessed ad listened to him now.
Finally, she went around the stage door and entered to watch and listen even closer.
"Good evening, Miss Trent," the stage manager greeted as she entered.
"Good evening, Sid," she said and stood in the wings watching. Tony's act featured Tony exclusively, but nobody seemed to mind. Accompanied by five musicians, he sang popular torch songs, usually of a semi-classical nature, and all the standard Italian songs. He was a better in the Mario Lanza tradition and the crowd gave him loud ovations after each song. Listening to his trained voice, Sherry suddenly felt that her own voice was nothing but a highly stylized bag of tricks. Where she relied on gimmicks of presentation and cute little chirpings, here was a singer of great power and depth. He was not without stage presence though. Great emotion contorted his features as he sang and he smiled broadly, showing his dimples and perfect white teeth, or looked forlorn, as the mood of the song dictated.
When he finished his final tune, Sherry's heart thumped wildly in her chest as he took curtain call after curtain call. As he came offstage finally, he walked directly past her. He was breathing hard and perspiring profusely. He stopped then, turned facing her and dabbed at his wet face with a handkerchief. His eyes ran the length of her, taking in her western attire.
"Well, hello there, cowgirl," he said. It was not a derogatory remark, merely an observation.
"Hi, Caruso," she responded.
Still out of breath, he smiled broadly. "Only in Nevada could a singer of Italian songs share the bill with Annie Oakley." Again it was not an insult. He was merely trying to be friendly.
"I suppose you're right," Sherry said. "I love your voice. Where are you from?"
"Philadelphia," he said. "I've worked mostly on the East Coast. This is my first time in Nevada."
He seemed about to leave and Sherry sought desperately to prolong their conversation. "I'm delighted to learn that your voice is even better indoors than outdoors," she said.
He stared at her, puzzled. "I-I don't think I understand," he said. "So far at least I haven't played the Hollywood Bowl. My agent's working on it, but so far it hasn't materialized."
Sherry couldn't resist what she felt. Somehow she had to impress him. Anyway! "No, but you've played the hills of Lake Tahoe. To an audience of two. I was out hiking this afternoon and I saw the strangest sight. I think it might be well for you to consider, expanding your act to a trio – two girls and yourself. You could all lie on the stage and I'm sure it would be a smash. From what I observed, they might even place you in the main room!"
Tony's mouth fell open and Sherry guessed he might have turned crimson if it weren't for his olive complexion. "I – uh – well, yes," he stammered. "Uh – perhaps girls should not go hiking alone in the woods – especially one of tender years."
Sherry threw her head back and laughed lustfully. "I may be only sixteen," she said, "but on the contrary, I found the sight very stimulating. In future, when I take hikes, I think I'll always hike in that direction. Do you usually perform in that area or do you spread your daytime performances here and there? I'd realty like to know."
Tony shook his head, trying to decide if she were being critical, flirtatious, or what. "Look, cowgirl…"
"Sherry," she corrected. "Sherry Trent."
"Look, Sherry, I'm sorry if I offended you this afternoon. Sincerely. I wish you would keep the incident to yourself, okay?" He extended his hand. "Friends?"
She accepted his hand. "Of course," Sherry said. "But you mustn't apologize. Do squirrels mating in the forest apologize, when people wander their way? No, I guess chipmunks and beavers and bears and whatever all have a right to do whatever they desire in their own forest, so why not people?"
"Yes, I never thought of it that way," he said, releasing her hand with a squeeze.
And then Sherry said something she had never dreamed she would say to Tony, not to any man so long as her father lived. "Tony, would you take a lonely girl for a hike some day – soon? I have just one problem. A jealous father. But I'm eager to hike with you." She was glad that hike was a four-letter word somehow.
"Yes, I would like to hike with you," Tony said. "Who wouldn't?"
"But sixteen-year-old girls make hiking difficult – especially ones with watchful fathers. They put men in jail for hiking with them."
"What makes you think I'm only sixteen?"
"You just told me, remember? Anyway, you're too dangerous, my dear. Tempting but dangerous."
"But I can be very sneaky and discreet," she said.
He patted her cheek lingeringly. "We'll see," he said, grinning. "I believe you're on now. Go out and get 'em, cowgirl." He left then.
Opening night went well – all three shows – and when the night's work was over and Sherry and her father had dined in the coffee shop they drove to their motel and, as usual, Victor Redgrave ran Sherry's bath. As she sat sudsing herself in the warm water, she could not get Tony Agnello out of her mind. She had managed to elude her father's company all evening and watch each of Tony's acts. Onstage he was brilliant, and she was certain that he was destined for a successful career. Her father was aware that she had watched Tony's performances but, thus far, had said nothing.
She remembered vividly Tony's complimenting her sincerely after her acts. "My little cowgirl's a remarkable performer," he had said, "for a sixteen-year-old."
And she had replied, "Your little cowgirl is even better offstage than onstage."
There was something about the man – he exuded masculinity – that drove her to a sexual frenzy. She had to have him! For the first time, she knew that Daddy was not enough. She wanted Tony Agnello's stiff, beautiful prick in her cunt and she was determined to have it there.
In a few minutes, her father came in and said that he would not bathe tonight. She stepped from the tub and he carefully dried her. Then he turned on the lamp with the rose-colored bulb he had bought and lay back naked watching her. "Come here to Daddy," he said. "The vibrators are ready and Daddy wants to make his little girl feel good so that she can have a good night's sleep."
She obeyed and they lay there while her Daddy's soft hands massaged her body and her breasts and her vagina. Despite herself, she became aroused, as always, and her hand soon found his hard-on and manipulated it as he worked on her pussy and rectum with the prickshaped vibrator. Her father elected to skip having his cock sucked tonight and merely sucked her pussy before fucking her. It felt good just lying there, feeling his hard, male meat sliding deep into her cunt. But there was only one trouble. She found herself imagining that it was Tony Agnello fucking and sucking her. She could feel his strong back beneath her roving hands and it was his firm buttocks that thrust between her legs and his voice gasping the four-letter words in her ear.
"Yes, my love… Oh, fuck… fuck… make me come," she was saying, but it was to a younger, more robust and eager cock that she pleaded for completion.